


Rememory

by actualrodent



Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: AU, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Femslash, Gay Character, JTHM AU, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Character of Color, M/M, Multi, Multichapter, Polyamory, and book references, artist nny, but it happens later, except for Devi and Tenna who r from the same universe, i read 1 chapter of reswan and then got the motivation, mismatched universes, music references, uncursed nny, wallmonster rift au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21609880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualrodent/pseuds/actualrodent
Summary: The wallmonster’s busting through created a rift in the multiverse, thus rearranging people from each universe, much like shuffling a deck of cards. Everyone is dropped off in different universes, aware of what has happened and aware that this is a world similar but not the same as their own and a vague memory of the version of themself that they took the place of. People remember a version of themselves and the people they encountered in the world that they end up in, but they know that they are not them. The retain memories of where they once were, they maintain who they once were, but now, they are somewhere new. Johnny, a reculsive artist, has been placed here with an opportunity at a different life than the one that he, or the one that the Nny before him, previously lived.Updates every friday
Relationships: Devi D./Tenna, Devi D./Tess R., Dillon/Edgar Vargas, Dillon/Tess R., Jimmy "Mmy"/Tess R., Johnny "Nny" C./Dillon, Johnny "Nny" C./Tess R., Tenna/Tess R.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Rememory

No one really knew when it all happened, nor did they remember when it occurred, it just did. Frankly, they were still adjusting. Everything was familiar, yet not. Familiar faces seemed to be from totally new worlds entirely, with no memories outside of where they once were, profound memory of who everyone thought they were, or at least, who they were in this new place. Everyone just woke up where they were, they knew this wasn't where they had been, but this was where they had to be. The government did nothing, the church did nothing, no one seemed to want to do anything about it. They wanted to keep it quiet, even though everyone knew what was happening. To have memories of who you are--and who the you in this place was--became something that everyone accepted. Something that everyone had. Some would even wager that this oddity brought people together; that it existed solely to ensure that these people found one another. But if course, that was someone's guess that must have gotten around, though it wasn't far fetched considering the lack of death and destruction. 

On William's street in a house labeled 777 sat an artist with red paint all over his shirt and face. He bit his own tongue as each brush stroke landed upon the canvas, grunting at each mistake he made as he made vain attempts to fix them. Acrylic paint mixed with the smallest bit of water left his lines slightly cleaner, but never clean enough for his liking. His own worst critic, really. He knew that it would never be good enough for himself--or for most of the other versions of himself out there. He knew that he may never enjoy his own artwork, but he truly wanted others to enjoy it. He took a step back from the painting, eyeing down every brush stroke with narrowed eyes. "It's all wrong." He grumbles, black irises darting back and forth at it, "This was never my vision--where did I go wrong with it?" He rubbed his temples and turned from the painting, sighing loudly. He needed to get away from here. Yes. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere with a calming atmosphere, enough to relax his ever tingling nerves. He wagered that maybe the bookstore would be a good area. Quiet and filled with nothing but the smell of processed paper and warm tea. He wiped his face clean and glanced at his own reflection for a moment on the cup of paint filled water before leaving his home. He was still who he was and would always be that, even where he had ended up. 

Inside of an old bookstore with a wooden sign labelled "Nerve Publishing" stood a worker with dyed purple hair. She knew she had worked here where she had been before she appeared in this world. Or well, a different version of it. Sometimes she wondered where the version of her who was there before had gone, or why they simply allowed her to take her place. These were questions she could never find an answer to, so she kept them to herself. She simply did as she was told. Shelving book and ringing people out. Jut like she had done before he had shown up here. It was a comforting and familiar job, it kept her from wondering. It kept her from thinking about what happened to herself and to the girl who was in her place not so long ago. The worker's blood ran cold everytime she saw the artist walk through the doors of the shop. She worried that he was the same artist who had hurt the girl she took the place of. Or maybe he was the artist who had hurt her? She didn't know. She couldn't know. The artist always looked at her with the same nervous expression. Maybe he recognized her? Maybe he was embarrassed? She wouldn't know. She limited her interactions with him. 

The artist gulped nervously as he walked through the doors of the shop, avoiding eye contact with the purple haired girl. He recognized her, yes. But in a different way. He knew that the version of him who once held his place had hurt her in a way that was nearly unforgivable, but he recalled a much different, but still hurtful exchange between himself and the girl. One that lead to mistrust and even fear. He was afraid of her, yes, but not this girl. Not the worker he existed alongside now. He had made peace that she was not the same, and thus much different from the girl he remembered. Clearly, she was still struggling with this fact. He didn't quite look like 

the artist from where she had come from, but the artist that the girl who had been here before knew, his face was blurred in her mind. Not enough to be indistinguishable, but enough to where his features could blend together with any other version of himself. She stood behind the front counter, keeping her eyes down as he walked in. The artist kept his own gaze forward, but felt that he was drawn toward the desk to speak to the worker. Maybe he would convince her that he was different, maybe he would get her to look a bit less nervous everytime he walked in. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel unsafe at work because of himself--or rather--the him that she was afraid of. 

He approached the counter, trying to think of something to get the conversation started. The shop was slow enough--the was hardly anyone else inside--so he could just...speak to her, couldn't he? "Hi." The artist's voice cracked, prompting him to cough. "Can I help you?" The worker replied quickly, giving the artist a half lidded look the conflicted with her stiff body. "I uh--" The artist cleared his throat, "I wanted to say--I recognize you." "So does everyone." She replied, a fake smile growing on her face, "I recognize you too. I recognize nearly everyone yet I've never met them." "Yeah it's..." he fiddled with his sleeves just a bit, pulling them over his hands to create sweater paws, "It's odd, isn't it." He cleared his throat a bit before speaking again, 

"I just wanted to say--you don't have to be afraid of me. I don't want you to be afraid of me. I'm not the same as the guy who was here before me. I know that he hurt you--or the you that was here before--or maybe even you but I'm not him. I'm different, I promise. The last thing I want is for my presence to make you feel unsafe." 

The worker felt a weird amount of relief mixed with mistrust. This artist was different than the ones buried in her memory, but was he really telling the truth? She felt that maybe he was, but she could never be sure. "Really, now?" She asked, "I mean--I would hope you aren't him I guess." She giggled, "So your name is..." "Johnny." The artist replied, "You can call me Nny--if you want to. Only if you want to." "I'll call you Nny." She replied, "It's shorter than Johnny, so that's what I'll call you." The worker brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm Devi." She said with a smile, "Of course, you knew that considering it's on my nametag." "Devi." Johnmy repeated her name and folded his arms, "It does ring a bell. I hope we can, well, move on from whatever we may be holding onto concerning each other." "I do too." Devi replied, a smiled on her face. 

"Now that we've discussed that," She leaned over the desk, "Can I help you with anything book related?" 

"Oh--yes--uhm..." he cleared his throat, "I don't really need any help. Just thought I'd browse and relax myself." "What better place to do that than here?" Devi laughed, "I suppose I'll see you around. Maybe I'll see you at the Club Shelley later? My girlfriend and I are going later tonight for a show there." "House shows aren't really my thing." Johnny shrugged his shoulders, "They get so loud considering they're in, well, a house. I never really fit into this town's goth scene..." She cocked an eyebrow. "I could bring ear plugs...?" 

"Well--then maybe. I'll think about it." 

Devi smiled. "Enjoy our selection of books while you think." 

Johnny nodded and waved goodbye as he walked away from the counter, making his way toward the art books. Devi let out a sigh of relief, lowering her shoulders. Did she just invite for a possible mass murder to occur at a house show? Maybe so. But for some reason, she felt that 

this Johnny was more trustworthy than the ones from before himself. Maybe they'd be friends...? She could never know unless she pursued it, and if there was one thing that her girlfriend had taught her, it was that she needed to stop hiding from new things or she would never grow or get any better than she was. Johnny stared down the spines of different art related books as he contemplated Devi's invitation. Was he willing to go to a social event? Somewhere in which he would be surrounded by judgemental goths and their disapproving stares at him. He gave up over the top goth clothing in favor of oversized, paint stained clothing long ago. Clearly, he would stick out like a sore thumb in a thrifted sweatshirt and jeans among a sea of mohawks and fishnets. He stood, contemplating for a moment before yanking an art book from the shelf, flipping through the pages and seeing all of the artwork. Most of it was artwork of the Victorian era, depicting socialites with wine glasses and musicians while people danced and gave kisses to one another. He grumbled as he shut the book. Johnny wasn't the superstitious type, but he knew that those paintings were in his view for him to make the decision to go. 

After about ten minutes, into the store walked a dark skinned woman with a neon green t shirt on who immediately approached Devi at the desk. Devi perked up at the site of her as she strutted in, combat boots squeaking against the hardwood of the shop. Her darling girlfriend, it was. How pleasant this was for Devi! The woman in the green shirt leaned across the counter and smiled up at Devi, baring a sweet of white teeth to her. "Hey, baby!" She said excitedly. "Hey, Tenna." Devi planted a small kiss on Tenna's lips, "My shift doesn't end for another five minutes, you're gonna have to be patient." Tenna pouted and gave Devi puppy-dog eyes as she imitated the sound of a whimpering canine in an attempt to emphasize her want for Devi to leave work early. Devi chuckled at her pouting girlfriend and took a peek at the clock on a the wall behind her. "Okay, three minutes and I get to go." "Oh boy, oh boy!" Tenna jumped up and down. "I'm so excited to go to that show tonight with you." Tenna purred, walking her index and middle finger up Devi's thin arm, "I heard it's not gonna be a regular goth band this time around, maybe it'll be some cool new music." "About that..." Devi trailed off as she saw Johnny approaching the counter, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he came foreward. 

"Devi," Johnny began, "I've had time to think about it, and I've decided that yes. I will be attending that house show later this evening." "Sweet." Devi replied, "Tenna and I will be there around seven." "Tenna?--" Johnny whispered as he turned to look at the dark skinned woman beside him, "Oh, hello there. You must be Devi's girlfriend. I'm Johnny." Tenna looked at Johnny's hand then back up at him before smiling at him and giving him a firm handshake. "I'm assuming you're much different that the other yous, yeah?" Tenna inquired, "Otherwise Devi wouldn't have invited you." "Oh yeah--definitely." Johnny replied, giving an awkward smile, "Never killed once in my life." "I like the sound of that." The three of them laughed a bit as Devi peeked behind herself at the clock on the wall, pumping her fist in victory as she realized the five minutes were up. "Alright, I get to clock out and blow this popsicle stand." Tenna gave a small, excited clap as Devi stepped into the back to clock out. "Alrighty, Johnny," Tenna began once her lover was out of earshot, "I don't know if you're being truthful or not, and I'm not going to stop you from accepting an invitation, but if you try anything funny, I reserve the right to beat you up." "Don't even worry about me." Johnny began, holding a hand out in front of himself, "I'm telling the truth. Obviously it's going to take some time for you to trust me, but I assure you, I'm not him." Tenna squinted for a moment and shrugged. "You certainly carry yourself differently that he did." 

Tenna was distracted from her prior conversation at the sight of Devi walking out with her purse and jacket, ready to leave the shop and head back home. "Alright," Devi twisted her purple locks between her fingers and she stepped down from behind the counter to stand beside Tenna, "We should be going. We'll see you tonight then, Nny?" Johnny give an "ok" symbol with his hand. "I should be heading out, too." Johnny said, scratching the back of his neck, "I should finish up my paintings before the show..." "Sounds good to me." Devi replied with a smile. The three parted 

ways upon reaching the parking lot, giving sheepish waves as they walked in opposite directions of each other. The girls went one way while the artist went another. All of this felt odd to Johnny; it was moving fast for him. There was no way in hell that those girls trusted him that quickly, but who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? He got an invitation to go see some band with a nice woman and her partner. He was certainly not complaining. It wasn't like he got out often, or like people asked him to. He was a recluse of sorts. Thoughts buzzed through his head as he walked through the city streets. Was he even going to fit in there? Or would he stick out like a sore thumb like always? He would never know unless he went, and he couldn't bail if he wanted their trust now, could he? He hoped this would be a step in reaching that ultimatum. Of course, he couldn't get his hopes up. Devi had a similar sentiment. She hoped that he was being honest with her and that he wouldn't decide to kill her where she stood if she made a wrong move. 

Devi and Tenna turned the corner to get to their apartment and in front of that local "progressive" church stood a man with the glasses, passing out flyers to get citizens to join the congregation. "Church flyers comin' up." Tenna sighed, "keep your gaze foreward." "On it." Devi replied. The two continued their walk making a vain attempt to walk passed the man with the glasses. "Ladies, could I interest you in the word of the lord?" He asked, holding out a bland printer paper flyer with a few scripture passages on it, "This Sunday's mass will be discussing the book of Ruth, the lord's greatest love story." The girls were silent as they kept walking. "Not interested? That's alright! Well, I'll be seeing you around then!" The duo waited until he was distracted by the next poor schmuck before they giggled amongst themselves at his efforts to get new people to assimilate. They had no memories of the man with glasses, so they didn't know him. Not one bit. But it wasn't like he remembered them, either. He remembered one people, yes. He remembered some people from this neighborhood, he always did from the life of the him that was here before, but Devi and Tenna's faces were totally and utterly new to him. The man with glasses stayed in front of the church for just a little bit longer, hanging out flyers as he did. Some people were buried in his memory while others were new faces. This remained as being a subject of disinterest to him. No matter how familiar people may look, they were never the same people as were in his memory, so why make himself sick over it? After a short while, the man with glasses ran out of flyers to pass out and went back into the building he called church. The walls were peppered with religious paintings and schedules for bible studies with an old carpet greeting him upon entry. 

The man with glasses grabbed his coat from one of the books near the door as he shared words of encouragement with his fellow volunteers at the church. A "god bless you" here, a "peace be with you" there, nothing too deep. Nothing too meaningful. Enough to show that yes, he cared, but not enough to think of anything less shallow. "Edgar," said a woman to the man in glasses, "do you have plans tonight?" "Well," Edgar began, "I'll be attending a house show tonight at Coub Shelley. Of course I'll be avoiding alcohol and drugs in hope of setting an example, but I will be there to simply enjoy the music and socialization." "Those shows! I could never..." the woman laughed, "the noise, the clientele, I couldn't even think of going to evangelize. A modern day saint you are, really." "Well, Jesus didn't only stay near to the Christian's, did he?" "He certainly did not." Laughed a rather burly man, patting Edgar's shoulder, "God bless you, brother Vargaz." "And God bless you, brother Smith." Edgar gave a few more handshakes and shoulder Pat's before slipping on his jacket and heading in the opposite direction of the church to his apartment to get himself ready for the show. As much as he enjoyed church, he was glad that it seemed as though no one else was going to the house show. They didn't need to know every little thing he was up to, did they? Of course not. 

At this aforementioned club was the band who was to be playing later that evening. The prepping of instruments and stage effects was almost too easy, what with the very relaxed setting of what was a slightly renovated house. A musician tunes his guitar as his bandmates 

argue behind him over who plays off key and who's out of tune. The musician simply tunes his guitar and warms up his voice. The last thing he needs is the stress of his bandmates getting to him. He was similar to Johnny in knowing that he was far different than the version of him who was here before, bit different than Johnny in the sense that he knew that what the version of him had done was unacceptable and even nauseating. He didn't like remembering it, or him for that matter. He wanted desperately to forget, but there was no forgetting any of it. What had been done had been done, and because of that, the version of himself whose memories he seemed to own now was long gone and frankly, the musician knew that he deserved it. "Yo--Jimmy!" Called one of his bandmates as he shoved his drumsticks in his jean vest pocket, "We ain't changed the set list, right?" "Of course not." The musician adjusted his hat, "We never change it this soon before a show, why would we now?" Jean vest shrugged, "Just makin' sure. These assholes kept swithcin' song names and confusin' me." "The song list is posted. There should be no confusion." "Well clearly there is." Jean vest was promptly smacked on the back of the head by the bass player, who was sure to hit him with hand on which he wore a studded ring. Jimmy groaned and went back to playing his guitar. He hoped to drown out the noise of it all and just get to the show already. As time grew nearer and his bandmates continued arguing, people began filtering in early, prompting the band to move into a backroom to get themselves ready. Vocal warmups and words of encouragement soon followed before a dark skinned girl with a nose ring entered the room with a smile on her face. "Thanks again for doing this on such short notice." She said, still grinning wide, "You're on in five. Got a big crowd here to see you tonight. Break a leg." Jimmy gave a thumbs up as the girl left the room before turning back to his bandmates, motioning for them to follow him out to the performance area. 

The room was dark full of people as they entered with only the stage area being empty and untampered with, with standing lights shining down on it. In the crowd were Devi and Tenna, who had just met up with Johnny, and Edgar, who was nearer to the back conversating with a small group. Devi nudges Johnny as the band got their instruments, attempting to get him to follow her and Tenna closer to the front of the crowd to get a better view. Without even needing words to make the request, Johnny followed the couple. The band took up their instruments and stood tall in the performance area, with Jimmy standing behind the microphone and looking across the sea of obscured faces. "Hello, San Jose!" Shouted Jimmy, putting a hand up, "How are we doing tonight?" A roar of cheers and whistles followed. "I'm doin' great I hope you're all doin' great--this first song is one of my favorites." Music filled the air as people danced with one another and socialized. It was different than the typical goth music that was played on the regular at the club, but people seemed to enjoy it. Devi and Tenna danced with one another, playfully trying to get Johnny to dance along, but Johnny seemed distracted from his attempt at fun. Something about the singer felt familiar, and he was digging into the back of his mind to figure out why. It wasn't his own memory that the singer's pimply face resided in, but in his doppelganger's memory instead. Though, this memory wasn't as quickly accessible as the rest of them. This memory felt brief, buried, almost as if his doppelganger didn't want the memory. Devi nudged Johnny, hoping to get his focus back on dancing. "Everything okay?" She asked, leaning in closer to him so that he could hear her over the music, "Is the noise bothering you or something? I have ear plugs in my purse." "No--I just--" Johnny smoothed his hair back and sighed, "I need to go outside for a sec." "Here, I'll come with you." Devi nudged Tenna to get her attention, "Nny and I are headed out for some air. We'll be back." Tenna gave Devi a thumbs up and continued socializing with her other friends who had arrived to the show. With that, the two made their way to the door, pushing passed other attendees to get to the porch of the venue, where a collective of goths and hipsters sat smoking and chatting about whatever young people chat about. Johnny breathed a sigh of relief as his lungs filled with the cool air of the evening upon reaching the outdoor area. Devi leaned against the side railing of the porch stairs as Johnny sat down at the bottom if them, keeping his legs up at his chest and he rested his elbows on his knees. 

"So, picasso," Devi began, taking a cigarette from a behind her ear, "why so green around the gills? If you need a ride home I can call you a taxi." "I don't need to leave or anything, I just..." the latino grumbled for a  moment and shut his eyes, "I know that guy. The lead. Or well, I don't know him, but I do. He's in my memory--or well--the other me's memory, I should say. I don't know why seeing him makes me upset but I think this guy did something bad. Something very bad." "Well," Devi sighed, a cloud of smoke exiting her mouth, "the other you isn't an angel either. But you seem lovely. I'd wager that this guy has a similar thing going on." "I would assume that, yeah." Johnny replied, a bit exasperated in his tone, "But something about him feels off. I just need something to jog my--or his--or whatever--memory. Like his name--" "What, the singer?" Asked a man in a Nine Inch Heels t shirt sitting nearby in the grass with a rather thin girl with an undercut in his lap, "His name's James, but he goes by Jimmy or Mmy." Johnny perked up a bit at that information. "He also went by 'darkness' during his emo phase but that ain't somethin' he likes to remember." "Does that help ring any bells, Nny?" Devi asked, sticking her cigarette back into her mouth. "Yeah..." Johnny replied, a concerned look on his face, "this singer--or--Jimmy...do you know him personally, or...?" "Oh, yeah," the man began, "he's opened for my band a couple of times. Decent guy." Johnny sat for a moment before springing back to his feet, a look of disgust on his face as the memories of his alternate self pertaining to this musician came back. He didn't recall him as a musician, rather a monster. He hoped to god above that this man wasn't exactly like that one, but fear still filled his core. "Woah, you okay?" Devi quickly went over to hold his arm, "You look like you saw some shit?" "I'm fine..." Johnny shook his head and turned to Devi, "That guy--he--or his other self--did something terrible." "So did yours." She laughed, letting go of his arm. "No--worse!" He folded his arms, "Somehow, worse." "Look--I promise you, he's most likely totally different than whoever you remember. I'm different than you remember, aren't I?" "Well yes, but--" "And you're different than I remember." "Yeah..." "He's totally different than we remember." The man in the gross laughed, intruding once again, "I remember you killin' me or somethin' before!" He and his girlfriend laughed, only to be joined by Devi just as well. "Yeah! See, Nny?" She petted his shoulder as she tossed her cigarette butt onto the pavement to be stomped out, "It's fine. If you're that nervous, we can catch him after the show, okay? Get to the bottom of it all." Johnny nodded, glancing at the couple in the grass. "Thabks for uh..." he cleared his throat, "...thanks for helping jog my memory, uh--" "Dillon." The man said, waving to Johnny in a friendly manner, "And this is my girl, Tess." Tess waved back, giving a lopsided smile. "Ah--I remember you guys--or well--what the other me remembers. Good meeting you." "And good meetin' you too, fella." As Devi was introducing herself to the couple, Johnny marched back inside, looking around for Tenna. He couldn't seem to find her in the crowd right away, and ended up bumping into someone in his search, whipping around to see who it was and apologize. Lo and behold, it was another familiar face. 

Edgar whipped his head around to see who it was that had bumped him only to be looking down at Johnny, who he recognized immediately. "Oh my god--I'm so sorry--" Johnny said, holding his hands out in front of him. "No, it's my fault." Edgar replied with a smile, "I was standing in an awkward place for you to be passing through." Edgar cocked an eyebrow. "You seem distressed. Were you separated from your group or something?" "I-I'm looking for my friend." Johnny replied, "She's uh--she's this skinny black girl--short hair--I think she's wearing a Sonic Bowel Movement shirt. Have you seen her?" "Oh, yes!" Edgar snapped his fingers, "I do believe I have. Follow me." Johnny followed Edgar down the hallway of the venue, walking passed kissing couples and bong-passing stoners as the did. "I've never seen you at one of these shows before." Edgar began, "I do believe I should be polite and introduce myself since we may run into each other again. I'm Edgar Vargaz. You may recognize me from the church on the corner of 12th and Maple." "I recognize you from more than just that..." Johnny laughed awkwardly, "I'm Johnny. You can call me Nny for short." "Ah yes, I remember you! Or well, not you, but part of me remembers the you that was here before." Edgar stopped for a moment to look at Johnny, "But don't worry. I don't hold it against you for what your doppelganger did to mine. Let bygones be bygones, they say." Johnny smiled a bit as Edgar beckoned him to follow him into a backroom where a few people sat on old couches and floors, sipping beers and puffing joints. Johnny scanned the room until he saw Tenna, sitting on the floor beside a few hipsters with a half empty wine cooler in her hand. Edgar followed Johnny as he marched over to her, kneeling beside her. "Tenna," Johnny began, nudging her shoulder. "One sec, y'all!" Tenna laughed, addressing her new concert friends, "What is it, bud? You look sick, do you need some water?" "I'm fine--" Johnny said, "but do you know how I could catch that singer after the show? Like could you help me?" "Well--yeah, of course." The dark skinned futch replied, "Me and Devi get to meet up with musicians all the time, it's easy. Why do you wanna--" "Look, I'll tell you in private just--" Johnny shocked his head, "thanks a ton." "Have a sit down, why don't you? Church boy can join us." Tenna gestured at Edgar. "Well I'd be happy to." Edgar replied, "and don't worry about me, I'm not going to bother any of you about church or the bible. Tonight is a night purely for fun." "C'mon," Tenna stood up, followed by a few of the people she sat with, "let's go back out and listen to the music. It's easier to catch a band right when they finish their set, anyways." "Gotcha." Johnny replied, standing back up. The group headed back out to the floor and caught Devi and her new friends at the couch together enjoying the music. "Hey!" Devi stood up and greeted Tenna with a hug, peppering her cheeks in black lipstick marks, "I see Johnny found you." "Yeah--he wants to meet the band." Tenna said. "Oh, that'll be easy!" Dillon stood up and patted Johnny on the back, "Easy as pie! Their set is almost over. Just stick by us." "Almost over?" Johnny asked, "It feels so short." "They feel longer when you're not bellyachin'! It's been almost two hours." "Two hours!?" Johnny gave a shocked expression, "How has it been two hours!?" "Time flies when you're having fun!" Devi laughed, having gotten into her girlfriend's lap while Johnny was distracted, "Just enjoy the music! They sell tapes and shirts and shit after the shows if you want any." "I think I'm good just talking to Jimmy." Johnny replied. "I dunno, I kinda dig these guys." Devi wistfully mused, kicking her legs up onto the couch and laying them across Tess' lap, "Tenna, can you buy me stuff while I take Nny to see the band?" "Sure, babe." Tenna laughed, burying her face into Devi's neck. "Ah, young love." Dillon jokingly crooned. "Isn't that the best kind?" Edgar added, playfully punching Dillon in the arm. "Altar boy is right!" Dillon cheered, hooking his arm around Edgar's shoulders, "C'mon, you me and Noodle Boy can go get some drinks while the ladies relax over here." "Sounds like a plan!" Edgar laughed. "I uh--" Johnny sighed and gave a weak smile, "I may as well." 

The girls playfully blew kisses and waved goodbye as the boys made their way over to the kitchen area, grabbing drinks from the fridge. Johnny sat on the granite counter while Edgar and Dillon simply leaned on it. "So, pimple face did somethin' bad, ya say?" Dillon asked, taking a swig of cheap beer. "Well a version of him did--" Johnny began, tapping his can with his nails, "but I'm scared that this one--the one on stage--has or will do something just as bad." "What did he do, though?" Edgar asked, curious as to what he was referring to. "Well he--he--oh god..." Johnny felt his stomach turn as he took a deep breath, "he raped someone. And he killed her. I don't know if this guy himself had but--" Dillon spat out his beer and gave a shocked look, "He what!?" He shouted, "Buddy, I'm going with ya to meet this guy. I gotta show him what's good." "I concur." Edgar huffed, "That is unacceptable." "Now, hold on--" Johnny set his can don beside himself, "We don't know if he did that himself, though. Let's just talk to him" "Fine." Dillon sneered, "But talkin' can turn real easily into fightin', small fry." 

Time passed as they all listened to the music being played. Jimmy continued to sing his heart out until finally reaching the end of the setlist and breathlessly speaking into the microphone to the crowd and clapping and cheering people. "I wish I could stay here all night long!" He yelled, putting his hands up in the air, "You've been a great crowd! We'll be selling merchandise at the table out front--t shirts, CDs, stickers, pins, all the stuff. All cheap, all locally made, all the shirts are screen printed at the art studio downtown. I hope I get to play here again soon, you're all beautiful--goodnight!" A symphony of cheers played the band out as the packed their instruments and exited to the backroom and people filtered outside to buy merchandise. Johnny looked to Devi who was giving a few goodbye kisses before nudging her to take him where he needed to go. "Calm down," Devi laughed, "we'll see him, we'll see him." "Jimmy usually hangs out out back to smoke while his bandmates look for groupies. Let's go." The group all agreed amongst each other to head to the backdoor, where they saw Jimmy standing leaned up against the wall, lighting a cigarette with his guitar case on the ground beside him. Dillon wasted no time marching over to him. "Dillon, buddy! Long time, no--" Jimmy was cut off by Dillon grabbing his shoulder and pinning him to the wall in rage. "Alright, pizza face. You got ten seconds to explain whatever the fuck Noodle Boy was tellin' me in the kitchen." "Oh God--uh--" Jimmy broke into a cold sweat as he was confronted with such an intense request, "I know what you're talking about, but I promise you, I didn't do that! The Mmy that did that isn't me! I'm a different Mmy, not that Mmy! I'm Mmy--or--me! Not Mmy!" "Is he speaking in tongues or some shit?" Devi asked, clearly confused, "And Johnny, what is going on!? Why is Dillon choking him out!?" "This bastard is a fuckin' rapist or some shit!" Dillon growled. "Yes, Johnny told us in the kitchen." Edgar added. "Look--I promise you, I'm not!" Jimmy pleaded, "I've never even slept with a girl, let alone assaulted one! I know what that version of myself did, and I didn't do that!" Dillon looked to Johnny, who simply sighed and motioned for him to stop. Dillon unhaded Jimmy, who hissed in pain and rubbed his sore shoulder. "Sorry..." Johnny said, "just got a little freaked out." "Don't worry about it." Jimmy replied, "Well, other than that, I hope you all liked the show." "Loved it!" Devi laughed, "I don't usually listen to that kinda music but like--I loved it. My girlfriend is buying some of your shit for us." "Well I am positively flattered--hey. Why don't we all meet up for coffee tomorrow morning. You all seem lovely and well--" he patted Dillon's shoulder, "I know this guy is when he's not wailing on me." Dillon laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. "I uh..." Johnny thought for a moment. 

"Sure. How's Café le Prick sound?"


End file.
